


You Are the Music in Me

by TweekXCraig



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, Band Fic, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 19:47:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12153588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TweekXCraig/pseuds/TweekXCraig
Summary: As long as Craig has Tweek and a song, he’ll be alright.





	1. Right Here Together is Where We Belong

Craig Tucker loved two things in life. Sure, there were plenty of things he liked, or cared for, but only two things he really and truly loved. His boyfriend, Tweek, and his music. 

There was nothing more intoxicating in the world then letting the deafening beats and melodies swirl through his head, stealing glances over his shoulder at Tweek. 

Thankully, the two things he loved were intertwined with one another. He couldn’t have Tweek without music, and he couldn’t have music without Tweek. It was a match made in heaven. 

Every night when their band, Stripe, played, Craig felt alive with a burning, all-consuming sensation. The band was something he cared for deeply, along with his bandmates, his lead guitarist, Stan, and his bassist, Kyle. He cared for his own guitar and the microphone that allowed him to share his harmonies and melodies with the crowd and the small sea of loyal fans that sang every lyric back to him. He liked them all, just not as much as he loved their drummer, Tweek.

No matter what happened or where he went in life, he always told himself that as long as he had Tweek and a song, he would be okay.

Craig couldn’t remember if they were in Ohio or Connecticut, the non-memorable states without a good story or place to be always ran together for him. Stan was in the front seat driving their shitty old van, hands tapping along to the beat of the loud Blink-182 song that was blasting from the radio. Craig was always paranoid when it wasn’t him driving, especially in the middle of the night. Ever since the incident where Tweek dozed off and almost killed them all in Toledo, if it was past midnight, Craig was wide awake, anxiously eyeing the driver every few minutes. He knew that Stan was aware he was being watched but completely ignored him in favor of humming the melody of the current song blaring. If it were Kyle driving, he would have been griping every five minutes about being watched, and if it were Tweek, Craig would be awake just to talk to him anyways, never making the mistake of leaving him alone to drive at night again. But Stan was a calm soul. He always had a steady thrum of easy energy flowing through his body that radiated like sunshine. He was the perfect balance to his best friend, Kyle’s, tense perfection. Craig flicked his eyes away from the dark haired boy driving and focused it instead on the curly redhead sleeping opened mouthed in the passenger seat. Craig liked Kyle alot, but their personalities were always tensely compatible, even out in the dynamics of the group but would likely not survive on their own. Where Stan was calm and level-headed, like sensible Craig himself, Kyle was a much snarkier, angrier version of Tweek. He had his moments of kindness and compassion but was very easily irritated and obsessed over problems for hours. Still, at the end of the day, he was one of Craig’s best friends and he always knew Kyle had his back. Kyle’s head began to loll off the seat and towards Stan, neck straining in an awkward position. Stan noticed it too and took his right hand off the wheel to gently push it back onto the padding of the seat, gently patting the mess of burgundy curls before returning his hand to the wheel. He flicked a glance in the rearview mirror and Craig detected a faint blush. 

The only thing Stan was never sensible about was admitting his undying love and affection towards Kyle. Craig had a sneaking suspicion that they had loved each other since they were kids but were both too stubborn to ever admit it out loud. Craig always told Tweek that they would die as little old men, living as platonic friends with platonic adopted children and a friendly marriage license before ever actually saying something about their feelings to each other.

The corner of Craig’s mouth turned up in a hint of smile and Stan must have still be anxiously watching him because he turned down the radio to defend himself.

“He would have complained about a neck cramp for the next week, dude,” Stan said casually but Craig’s smile only grew. “Trust me, I’m saving us all.”

“Yeah?” Craig half-agreed and half-teased. 

“Yeah.” Stan said back more forcefully and turned the radio up louder.

The sudden burst of noise caused Tweek, who was sleeping soundly with his head in Craig’s lap to jump awake with a gasp. Craig shot Stan a dirty look; Kyle slept like the dead and an entire parade could have passed by without him waking up. Craig turned to Tweek, trying to smooth down the ever present golden cowlicks that surrounded his head like a halo. 

“Go back to sleep, babe. It was just Stan’s music,” Craig soothed and Tweek’s eyes seemed less wild and panicked after finding his in the dark.

Craig had that affect on him. Tweek had always been a constant ball of stress and anxiety that seemed to jitter from place to place, but Craig always tried to his best to fix that. It took a while to figure out that there was no solution and the best he could do at times was listen and help him translate those feelings into a song. Drumming helped too; Craig imagined that smashing your way through a song would fix just about anything. 

Craig was exhausted by the time they reached the motel in Illinois. It had been a long night and Craig had switched with Stan at 2 in the morning, jealously staring as he and Tweek snuggled like kittens in the backseat, but because he wished he were asleep too. When the gas tank shuttered near empty and the sun was beginning to take it’s place in the early morning sky, Craig finally called it quits. He followed the road signs to the nearest motel, thanking God it was a cheap one too, and rubbed at his burning eyes before turning the van off. When the music stopped, Tweek and Stan both slowly awakened, Tweek leaning against his shoulder, and, of course, Kyle was still peacefully at rest. He shook the redhead’s shoulder and rolled his eyes at the grumpy protest before throwing open the car door and letting the cool morning air rush into the van. 

“If you fuckers wanna sleep in the van all day, be my guest. I’m going to get a shower and a bed.”

He hopped down and closed the door, going to slide open Tweek’s and the two walked into the motel hand in hand.

Craig was awoken many hours later by Kyle shaking his whole body. Craig pushed his eyes shut harder and shot a hand out to hopefully punch the offender in the balls.

“If you wanna sleep through the show, be my guest, fucker. I’m going to go play music and get paid.” Kyle quoted him from earlier in a mocking tone and Craig wished he had the power to make people disappear with his mind. 

He rolled over and saw that the clock read 7 pm and realized he had slept almost ten hours. He was still so tired though; all he wanted to do was pull Tweek back into his chest and close his eyes forever. 

He reached out one stiff arm and patted the bed beside him, searching for his boyfriend and when his search came up empty, he pried his eyes back open. The first thing that came into view was Kyle, standing beside the bed with a slightly amused look on his face, holding a grease-stained McDonalds bag and a coffee.

“Tweek and Stan went to go fill up the van and I offered to wake you up, Sleeping Beauty,” Kyle flopped down onto the edge of the bed and pushed the peace offering in his hands towards Craig.

“Thanks,” Craig croaked, voice thick with sleep.

He immediately began wolfing down the cold food, not even bothering to taste the burger properly. Kyle laid back on his bed staring in vague disgust and humor and him.

“We have another couple of days until we play in Chicago.” Kyle declared randomly.

“Okay.”

“The guys and I were thinking maybe we could do something, I dunno, fun?” 

Craig furrowed his brow before shoving the last of the two burgers into his mouth and washing it down with equally cold coffee. They could barely afford to eat and sleep in a bed, much less anything fun.

“Like what?”

“You remember that guy we met in Grand Rapids? The one with the scars and the big orange hoodie?”

Craig took a minute to rack his brain. They had encountered quite a few interesting characters in their adventures and one guy with scars and a hoodie was easy to forget.

“Maybe?” He responded.

“He was the one that snorted coke off that girls tits’ before stage diving and breaking his arm?”

“Oh, shit, him? Yeah, I do,” Craig chuckled.

“Well he says he has a place in Chicago and offered us a place to stay. Instead of staying here and wasting money in Butt Fuck nowhere, the guys and I thought it might be fun,” Kyle shrugged.

“Maybe,” Craig mused. That guy was pretty cool and had been to their show a few times, but still seemed like a lot to deal with as a person. Still, they rarely did anything besides drive, sleep, and play music. 

The silence of the two boys’ musings were interrupted by the door of the room banging open and Stan and Tweek running through them giggling.

Stan thrust an arm into the air and proudly displayed a large case of beer.

“Pre-show refreshments anyone?” He jokingly proclaimed.

“Dude, you wasted money on beer?” Kyle asked, and Craig could see him mentally tallying how much they had left in the money sock.

“No! He stole it!” Tweek screeched looking almost manic with anxiety and laughter. “I thought for sure we were gonna get caught, I mean, they probably have our pictures and sent them to the police and—“

“Tweek,” Stan ripped open the case and handed his jittery blonde friend a can. “Drink it off, buddy.”

As the four of them laid around their shitty motel room, nursing shitty beers and telling shitty jokes, Craig couldn’t keep the smile off his face. This was his idea of fun.


	2. I Get By With a Little Help from My Friends

Craig might not remember every person they’ve met or every place that they’ve been to, but he remembers every single show they’ve ever played. He can perfectly recall the sweltering heat of the lights and the wave his hair curled against his forehead. Every single melody that flowed through the air, his notes mingling with Stan or Kyle’s. His favorite was when his voice mixed with Tweek’s. He had a lower, almost raspy singing voice and Tweek’s was soft and sweet, making a harmony that could please God himself. 

It was his favorite sound.

That night after the crowd had gone home and they had been paid their measly wages, Kyle and Stan had taken the manager up on his offer of free drinks and opted to stay behind, leaving Tweek and Craig alone for a better part of the night. They drove in contented silence back the the motel, holding hands on the worn center console. Every so often Craig would rub his thumb over Tweek’s supple skin and he could almost feel Tweek melting into the seat beside him.

Life on the road had many perks and many faults. 

There were no parents to complain that they were wasting their lives on a pipe dream, but there was also no parents when you were on your last dollar and there were four hungry boys to feed.

They were always out living life to the fullest and soaking in every second of their young adult lives but sometimes the creeping fear and anxiety that they were wasting another part kept him awake at night.

He was constantly surrounded by his best friends and the love of his life, but he rarely got a moment alone with said love of his life.

That made the noises that poured out of Tweek’s dry lips as Craig slowly entered him that much sweeter. This was Craig’s second favorite sound and sometimes he wondered how he lived without hearing it every single day. Dry hand jobs and messy pre-show dive bar bathroom oral sex could not compare to the bliss Craig felt at the moment. 

They were loud and messy. He couldn’t give a shit less if the neighbors called the cops because they would be gone before the sun rose and he didn’t care if they broke the whole bed because they paid in cash and used Stan’s fake I.D. 

The only thing he cared about was hitting the spots in Tweek that made him sing. Craig desperately plunged forward and captured Tweek’s lips in his, fumbling to get a sweaty hand in Tweek’s wet hair. Tweek responded by raking his fingers down Craig’s back, eliciting a hiss from the boy on top, but he loved the sting, it made him feel alive. 

Craig could see the climax building in Tweek’s eyes and whispered sweet nothings in the dark, moving faster and harder to coax the ending. When Tweek spilled over the edge, he always took Craig’s breath away. The huffy whines ratcheted up to a full blown scream and the way every muscle in his body tensed to the point Craig was convinced he could play them like his guitar. He threw back his sweaty, red face and his eyes rolled back and Craig couldn’t control himself either, letting his own ending come. Before falling onto his forearms and letting his sweat-soaked hair dangle away from his head.

“Fuck, I love you,” Tweek sighed and Craig smiled down at Tweek’s chest before gently pulling out and flopping onto the rock hard bed beside him.

Craig’s dreams that night were wild and confusing. Every way he turned was wrong and he couldn’t stomp out the feeling that something wicked was coming. He could feel himself tossing and turning and his breath kept catching in his throat. He wanted to scream but he didn’t know why. Why was this happening? Where was he? Where was Tweek? What was that coming towards him? 

A hand grabbed Craig’s face and he flailed awake with a scream. The lights flicked on in the room shortly after, burning his retinas and making him hiss curse words to himself. 

He looked up a moment later to see Tweek sitting on the bed next to him, sleep matted hair and wide blue eyes, with one shaky hand uncertainly held up near him. He looked over his shoulder to see Stan staring in confusion, hand still gripped around the lamp. Kyle, of course, was still unconscious. 

“Bad dream,” he grumbled before throwing off the covers and standing up to pull on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Where are you going?” Tweek asked, still looking nervous and uncertain.

“I need to take a walk and get some air or something.”

“Dude, it’s 4 am,” Stan interjected, looking just as hesitant as Tweek.

“Okay,” Craig while pulling on his shoes.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Tweek offered, lifting up the covers.

“You can if you would like to,” Craig responded. 

Tweek and Craig walked hand in hand down the empty sidewalk. The night breeze bit at Craig’s skin but he wasn’t ready to go back yet. He couldn’t understand why, but he still felt incredibly unsettled.

“Are you okay?” Tweek asked, reading his face.

“I don’t know why, but I can’t shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen.” 

“I get that,” Tweek said gently. “Writing it down usually helps me.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Craig agreed as they continued their walk into the chilly night.

The next day on their drive to Chicago, Craig kept trying to write a song. Trying, and failing. Every word felt clunky and the chord were a jumbled disaster. He suddenly felt fifteen again, sitting in frustration in his bedroom as he tried to make music but didn’t know how.

“I think maybe if you just re-arranged some of the melodies near the hook it’ll give it a more even flow,” Stan mused, plucking away at his acoustic guitar, trying to save this broken mess of a song.

Tweek was driving and normally Craig would sit up front, but he was still trying to vent his frustrations from the night before and it wasn’t coming to him in any simple shape or form. 

“I think the song just needs to not suck,” Craig retorted and scribbled through another garbled lyric. “It’s like I have a poison pen and can’t write a decent thing to save my life.”

Stan cocked his head to the side before snatching the note pad and pen out of Craig’s hands and writing quickly.

“What?” Craig questioned.

“That sounded good,” Stan explained as he continued to write.

“‘I can’t write a decent thing?’” Kyle was turned around and watching Stan intently as well.

“No, ‘poison pen’, like it could be, ‘I write with a poison pen,’” Stan explained before furrowing his brow and continuing to write.

“That’s not bad,” Tweek chimed in.

Craig nodded still not sure where the song could go from there though.

“What else do you have?” Kyle questioned.

“‘The blood in my veins is made up of mistakes’ and ‘everybody’s got their demons, even wide awake or dreaming.’”

“What did Craig have before that?”

“‘See a match, I wanna strike it. See a war, I wanna fight it.’”

“Oh, I’ve got one!” Kyle exclaimed and reached for the notepad.

Craig started to feel a lot better as the sounds of Stan piecing together guitar chords, Tweek tapping out a beat on the steering wheel, and Kyle singing burgeoning melodies filled the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi so if any one was wondering the song lyrics were from 5SOS’s Jet Black Heart. Thank you for all the kudos so far and i hope you like it xx


	3. Once in a Lifetime, You Were Mine

Craig has no idea how any of it happened. It was heartbreaking and devastating to him that in one moment, his life could be the epitome of his perfection, and the next, absolutely nothing. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and absorbed the absolute loathing and disgust that was bouncing off the glass at him. 

How could this have happened?

What had he done?

It had all started and ended with the man in the orange jacket and Craig would never forgive him as long as he lived. He would never forgive himself either but there was no easy way to avoid himself forever.

They should have never come to Chicago, Craig thought bitterly to himself, hunching over the filthy sink and staring heavily at himself in the mirror. 

It was the party, Craig decided. That was their undoing. 

The two nights before had been their first night in the Windy City. They have arrived much later in the day than originally projected, thanks to their sudden flow of creativity. They had been stopping frequently to take turns in the back writing or finding shitty tourist attractions that made Kyle and Tweek laugh, so of course they had to stop. Stan would spend forever digging around for his old digital camera and everyone would pretend to be annoyed before filling the film with idiotic pictures of themselves. It was a happy memory. Craig wished he could print it out like their pictures and wear it around his neck forever.

When they finally arrived to their destination, it was well past dark. The man in the orange jacket that he had been reminded of previously was waiting outside for them, hood pulled up tightly around his face and a lit cigarette dangling out of the minuscule opening. Craig thought absently about what a fire hazard that was and almost laughed because that was a complete Tweek thought and he typically never cared about things like that. 

The man flipped his hood down when they got out of the van and approached him. Under the light, with his hood and cigarette, he had looked much more menacing then he did now. He had bright, blue eyes and a mischievous smile, like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and couldn’t give two fucks if you saw. There were silvery scars that littered his face and neck, along with a few tattoos that crossed his knuckles and peeked through the collar of his shirt. The golden blonde tufts of hair that looked almost slept on waved slightly in the wind and he ran a grease-stained hand through it before reaching out to pull Stan into a handshake.

Tweek seemed nervous about him and held Craig’s hand in a vice tight grip but Craig found nothing overtly wrong with him. He seemed interesting enough and Craig remembered him as a good time. 

And a good time he was. After the initial re-introductions in which Craig found out his name was Kenny McCormick and he was a self-proclaimed “traveling mechanic.” He loved their band and tried to see them whenever they were both in the same town, which Craig thought was pretty kick-ass. They didn’t have many die-hard fans but the ones that were there were always special to him. He enjoyed that people loved and appreciated their music almost as much as they did. 

Kenny had climbed into the back of the van with them and told animated stories that had everybody crying with laughter while passing around a joint he had pulled out of his pocket. Craig felt an easy comfort slide into the vehicle and even Tweek was relaxed, tucked into his side and breathing warmly on his neck. 

Kenny directed Stan, who was in the driver’s seat about which was to go until they eventually pulled up to a club in a part of town that they could never afford. The car fell silent as everybody, excluding Kenny, shared uneasy looks.

“Uh, dude, we’re musicians. We don’t make that much money,” Kyle explained a little tetchy as Kenny opened up the door of the van and prepared to hop out.

“Neither do I,” Kenny grinned like he knew a secret.

“Okay, so how the hell are were going to get into the club, much less afford a single drink?” Tweek has sat up and Craig could feel the anxiety soaking back into him.

“The club manager owes me a favor. Trust me, we won’t be spending a dime tonight,” Kenny winked and hopped onto the pavement. “You can bring the car up to the valet, the rest, I’ll handle.”

Craig watched Stan and Kyle share suspicious looks as Kenny sauntered up to the bouncer at the beginning of a very long, expensive looking line. They stared in unease, as the bouncer looked ready to murder Kenny and eat his body for lunch pushed his headset and started talking. His initially gruff face turned to that of shock, and then apology. He opened up the rope for Kenny and almost bowed as the tall boy walked through. Kenny turned back to the van with a shit-eating grin and pointed at them. Within seconds, a boy that looked their age and clad in a suit that said “Valet” on the breast pocket was knocking on their window, making them all jump a foot into the air. 

Their van was gone and they were inside before they could fully comprehend what was happening. 

“What the fuck?” Craig breathed out and the boys were frozen in absolute shock. 

There were things you could have never imagined your wildest dreams, Craig thought. Girls in rhinestone encrusted dresses carried gold-plated bottles the size of their heads with sparklers lighting the air above them. The chandelier above the dance floor reflected the dizzying array of lights around the room and the music was so loud it vibrated through their lungs. From the floor to ceiling of the bar, there were insane amounts of gold, silver and gem-encrusted bottles that were bigger than Craig. There were tables near the bar and dance floor with notable celebrities that Craig recognized and the room was filled with beautiful people that had more money than Craig would ever think of. 

The energy in the room was intoxicating. The lights swirled around them and the music flowed through them and it was so easy to get lost within the moment. A gorgeous girl in a floor length gown that had a large slit up to the top of her leg and she wore a temptress smile. They were seated at a table with more drinks than they could count before they could blink and the night swirled away.

Kenny was practically pouring drinks down their throats and Craig’s mind felt disconnected from his body as he pulled Tweek out onto the dance floor. Their bodies melted together and Craig had never been so in love with everything. 

At some point during the night, Craig had ended up alone on the dance floor. He spun around in circles aimlessly watching the people dance and drink the night away. He saw Stan and Kyle in their booth and his feet carried him forward but he stopped abruptly when he saw Kyle climb into Stan’s lap and their mouths mold together. He tried to turn the other way, feeling like he was intruding on a private moment but began to topple and was saved last second by a set of strong arms.

“Tweek?” Craig slurred and pressed his face into the warm chest that was holding him close.

“Close,” the booze tainted breath washed over his face.

He looked up and Kenny blurred into view. His cheeks were rosy and he was staring down at Craig with a candid sort of curiosity.

“Where’s Tweek?” Craig breathed out.

The memory faded away as Craig’s head fell forward into his hands. He slide down the wall, long legs scrunching up to his chest and he moaned loudly and viciously rubbed his eyes to futilely stop the flow of tears. He couldn’t think about it anymore. Not without going insane. 

There was a soft knock at the bathroom door and Craig’s head stayed ducked as the old wood creaked open.

“Hey, dude. How are you feeling?” Stan’s concerned eyes glinted in the weak light the bare bulb gave off overhead.

“How the fuck do you think I feel?” Craig snapped. He knew he shouldn’t attack Stan; it wasn’t his fault that all of this happened.

“I know,” Stan said quietly. The door opened enough to allow the black-haired boy in before snapping it shut and he came to join Craig on the floor, adopting a similar position.

“How could this have happened?” Craig meant to whisper but ended up closer to a whimper.

“I don’t know.” Stan replied. “Now, we just have to figure out what's next.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, so I’ve been away for a while but the episode last night gave this ship new life and I’m definitely inspired again. Second chapter should be coming soon xx


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